Black Mirror Read Online Free PDF Page B

glasses anymore … and she’d asked Daniel if he wanted to dance, and he’d said
Yes.
    For a moment I thought again of not attending the Unity meeting. I was already late; I’d dithered so much about coming. I could still return to my room—my safe room with its satisfying, dark paintings. But then I remembered what else was now on the wall of my room. The mirror with its drape of black silk. The mirror that said:
You owe your brother.
The mirror that said:
You were so wrong about everything.
    I marched myself toward the meeting room.
    Almost at once I heard several voices clearly. I peered into the room and saw a clump of Unity Service people in a large circle of folding chairs. They were intent on one another; no one noticed me at first as I lingered just outside the door with my doubts. But then Wallace Chan looked up. “Frances!” He sounded shocked.
    Everyone stopped talking. People turned toward me.Everyone stared. Their faces all blurred together and for a few seconds I couldn’t have put a name to any of them.
    I stood in the doorway. I couldn’t move.
    Then I heard a wonderful familiar voice saying my name. Ms. Wiles, my art teacher, was there in front of me. I was surprised to see her, and then relieved. “Come sit with me,” she said. “We’re just getting started.”
    My lips moved in the semblance of a smile. I settled uneasily on the edge of the chair beside her. At least Saskia was a few chairs away. “Hi,” I said to the air, aware that I sounded dreadfully shy and unsure. I slid my backpack to the floor. I thought about at least unwinding Daniel’s scarf; everyone else had taken off their outdoor things. But I didn’t.
    As the awkward silence continued, I looked covertly around the circle. Besides Saskia and Wallace, I noted Patrick Leyden. A few teachers; the associate dean. And lots of students: George de Witt; Julie Binell; Jim Amara; a couple of other Lattimore-scholarship students, José Lamas and Pammy Rosenfeld. Eric Zhu. Robert Jenkins. Allysa Axelband. A freshman. No idea. Jenny Rubin. Mandy Somebody. James—
    James! To my knowledge he wasn’t a Unity member. What was he doing here? His chair was pushed slightly back and out of perfect alignment with the circle. I felt personally affronted by his presence. I hurried my eyes past him. Margaux Burnett. No idea. Sean Van Dorpe. Mahmoud Hassona. Laurel Boylan. Nicole Ruffine. I gave up on names and just counted. Twenty-nine.
    No, thirty. Andy Jankowski was not part of the circle, but sat against the wall on the other side from where I was. He smiled tentatively at me, and I found myself smiling back. I straightened in my chair.
    I looked at Saskia. She was looking at Patrick Leyden. Patrick Leyden, God’s gift to Pettengill. Saskia seemed to be asking a question with her expression.
    Then she looked again at me, and Ms. Wiles put an encouraging hand on my arm.
    I bit my lip.
Please
, I prayed silently, though I wasn’t entirely sure what I was praying for. Not to be kicked out? Not to be humiliated? My eyes met Saskia’s. I don’t know what she read there. She looked again toward Patrick Leyden. Then she said hurriedly, “Welcome, Frances. Just to catch you up. We want to do something—select a special project—to memorialize Daniel.”
    Air returned to the room.
    Saskia went on more calmly. “Let me go over the top ideas, and we can discuss them as a group. Then we’ll have a straw vote, after which the officers will meet with Mr. Leyden.” All the heads in the circle moved as one to look at Patrick Leyden, who simply waved a hand, as if he were the President coming off
Air Force One.
After allowing the moment of adulation, he nodded at Saskia, and she continued. “After that, we’ll come back with a decision, oh, within a day or so, and get started on implementation.”
    My stomach had begun to roil again. But the worst was over, surely? I watched my hands in my lap. I listened toSaskia talk about a big fund-raising drive.